


please, could you be tender?

by sara_coffeeontherocks



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Tattoos, kinda tattoo artist Chuck Grant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_coffeeontherocks/pseuds/sara_coffeeontherocks
Summary: Ronald Speirs knows he has a crush, the moment his gaze meets the Sergeants blue-as-the-morning-sky gaze. He likes the man, he is smart,capable, a great Sergeant and an even better person.And when the man takes off his shirt and it reveals a swirl of beautiful tattoos across his arms,shoulders, torso and around the dip of his hips, Ron knows he is doomed.
Relationships: Charles Grant/Ronald Speirs
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	please, could you be tender?

**Author's Note:**

> this is bc we need more speirs x grant and bc speirs would lose his mind over grant having tattoos.  
> thanks eva (@captainkilly) for the inspiration, this is for you!!

_I mustn't look at you too much, or I won't be able to take my eyes off you at all._ -Franz Kafka 

Charles 'Chuck' E. Grant gets his first tattoo when he is 16 years old. He is freshly graduated, he just got his first paycheck and he is buzzing with excitement and a bit of fear. 

His first tattoo is a beautiful mermaid with white hair, who resembles his late best friend, Anne, who died in an accident when they were 12. While he grew to live with his grief that never really went away, he promised himself to get something to remember his always cheery, sun kissed, white-blonde hurricane of laughter best friend he had. The tattoo is black and white and it hurts like a son of a bitch. She settles proudly on his left forearm and it looks amazing.

He wants to get another one as soon as the artist tells him they're done. But he knows he can't blow all his hard earned money on tattoos, so he waits another year. 

He gets the sun and the moon in honor of his parents, who are his guide in life, besides his sisters. Her mother, fiery and warm as the sun, full of love and energy, where his father's always patient words calm his easily distressed mind. He loves them to death, wants to carry them with him always. 

He gets two sparrows on his chest on a bet. They hurt, but it look awesome. The sailor who is in front of him in the tattoo line checks him out without shame, as Grant takes off his shirt. He is 20 years old and he only kissed women so far but it doesn't feel as good as everyone told him so. And when the sailor, Daniel-he learns later- kisses him,after they get into a conversation on their way out of the bar they got into, when Grant took on the offer to grab a beer, he knows why. He was never meant to kiss women, when the thrill of an other man's mouth sends shivers down his spine. 

He ends up getting a cheesy, bleeding heart, stabbed through with a dagger, when at 22 Daniel ends up breaking his heart. The tattoo hurts,more than the previous ones ever did, and it's not the best he has, but it fits the feeling. He cries through the process and he feels like his heart will never heal.

But it does. Of course it does.

He goes and gets some smaller tattoos, just for the fun of it. He literally wears his heart on his sleeve and it gets him a few appreciative looks from both men and women. He starts to feel like himself.

He starts working as an apprentice in the tattoo shop when he turns 24. On his third day there, he ends up with a bunch of flowers on both his sides, for her sisters, Lilly and Poppy, that wrap around his hips. Magdalene, the girl who does them is a god-given talent. She teaches him everything and they trade tattoos and stories. She becomes his best friend and most trusted advisor. 

She is the first one he tells he will join the Army, when all hell breaks loose. She cries for him and tells him to stay alive, to come back, to take care of himself. As he boards the train to Georgia,Toccoa, at 27, to become a paratrooper, his _Magdalene_ tattoo shifts under the sleeve of his shirt, ink still fresh above the bleeding heart that is just a memory now. 

He sees Ronald Speirs for the first time and the bleeding heart in his arm throbs with realization, because he finds he can't look away from this beautiful man. More so he doesn't _want_ to. He keeps sneaking glances at the beautiful man, every time he is near. He can't help but admire him, want churning his guts when the men meets his gaze for the first time.

When 'Skip' Muck sees him shirtless when they get out of the common showers for the first time, after their first Curahee run, he jokes that Grant could be a sailor with that much tattoos. Or a gangster. 

He just shrugs and smiles. He loves his body, the art and memories etched into it. It is his home, after all. 

He decides to hide them from the others, from Sobel, from anyone who would try and schwack him out of the military for being too different. He ends up running with an undershirt and he is thankful that he didn't cover his calves with tattoos just yet. He earns some ribbing from Sobel, but he ends up becoming an NCO, so after a while he leaves him alone. The others don't comment on it, and even if they have an opinion, they keep it to themselves. 

The only other person who knows is Doc Roe, of course.When he goes to him for stitches after a misfortunate accident with Shifty and a bayonet during training,and he takes off his shirt, the Doc let's out a low, impressed whistle. Grant actually blushes and while the Doc patches him up, the cajun boy -to his surprise- asks him the question,

'So Grant. This might be out of line, _pardon_ , but could you-, do you also give people tattoos or you just get them?'

Grant has to wrap his head around the implication. 

_Is the Doc asking me to give him a tattoo? What?_

'I do-I used to at least. Back home, in Los Angeles I worked in parlor for a while. I got pretty good at it. Why?'

He is excited and anxious for the answer. 

He ends up stick and poking ' _Allons!'_ into Roe's white-as-snow skin, the word curving around his left ankle, just hidden by his socks, with a medical needle and the best ink he can buy on one of his weekend passes. It is a joke and a testament of their future, of always running the damned Currahee, of always being on the go. Doc smiles at him knowingly for a few days, up until Luz very loudly ask Grant if they are having an affair, which Grant doesn't even know how to process, but it earns Luz a glare that could kill a lesser man from Roe. Toye just shwacks Luz on the head and they don't talk about it again, but Grant can still feel some quizzical looks bounce between the two of them. 

After they get their jump wings - and he should know better than to underestimate Lewis Nixon- he is drunk enough to promise a tattoo to Nixon, a line from Baudelaire, in French of course - Grant is getting pretty good at French, he finds- and it's ironic and so spot on. It is also a show that Lewis Nixon is not what he seems. He is an honest, emotional, so so intelligent man. 

_être toujours ivre_

While Grant inks his skin, under Roe's careful and Nixon's curious gaze, Nixon recites them the poem in both French and English. They leave in the dead of night, all of them wrapped up in their own thoughts, ink staining their fingers. 

Then they go to war, and jump from airplanes and he feels the eagle etched into his back and the sparrows on his chest burn in irony, while he falls from the sky. 

*

Ronald Speirs knows he has a crush, the moment his gaze meets the Sergeants blue-as-the-morning-sky gaze. He likes the man, he is smart,capable, a great Sergeant and an even better person.   
And when the man takes off his shirt and it reveals a swirl of beautiful tattoos across his arms,shoulders, torso and down to the dip of his hips, Ron knows he is doomed.

They are near a river in some clearing, somewhere in Germany, and the sun is surprisingly burning. They are resting, some men have their shirts and pants off, some are asleep in the grass. It is a rare time for peace, for them to do nothing for a while. The officers are sitting in front of maps, planning their route to the near town that is their objective.

He is in a low conversation with Nixon about the positions of Dog and Fox Company, about their next move, about the enemy lines near, when he hears a chorus of wolf-whistles and surprised gasps. They all look up, finding most of Easy staring at one of their shirtless members. He is pretty sure Nixon can hear the way he swallows, hard, as he looks at Charles 'Chuck' Grant. 

'Aye, Grant _what the fuck man_?' Bill Guarnere's thick Philadelphian accent cuts through the clearing. Ron can't blame him. He is mesmerized, shocked and lowkey turned on. 

Chuck Grant has a beautiful set of tattoos across his body and Ron finds himself hypnotized by the shining sweat on the black and white inked skin. The little voice in his head tells him that he should go over to Grant, grab his face and kiss his way down his beautiful body, down to the jut of his hips. 

He has to grit his teeth and turn away before his thoughts wander into an even more dangerous territory. He turns back to Nixon, who is smiling at him like he can read his mind. He really hopes he can't but he wouldn't put it past the man. He almost groans when Nixon asks, 

'Hey Sparky, if I knew you liked your beaus tattooed up, I would have shown you mine ages ago.' He wiggles his eyebrows, a cheeky smile adorning his face. 

Speirs blushes a bit, nothing worthy of noticing, but Nixon, of course does. He notices everything. Speirs wants to keep a shred of his dignity, so he bounces back with

'I don't think your redhead beau is into sharing Lewis. I don't want the Major to kill me in my sleep because I made a move on _his_ man ' , he smiles, sharp, wicked. 

Now it's Nixon's time to blush and fortunately for Speirs, Harry chooses this time to announce that he and Carwood have came up with a plan. Under Richard Winters's curious gaze, Nixon gets up and goes over to them. Speirs stays in his spot, not so far away that he can't listen to what Carwood and Lewis are discussing but for now he stays out of the conversation. 

Instead he turns his gaze back to the company, eyes looking for a certain Staff Sergeant. When he finds the blue eyes looking straight back at him, then wander to Nixon, he feels something twist in his stomach. He just nods at Grant, keeps his eyes from wandering down the other's body. 

Later that night, alone in his foxhole, hidden in the darkness, he imagines that the hand he pushes down into his underwear is not his own but a strong, tattooed one. He comes embarrassingly fast and he has a name on his lips, which he pants out silently. And when he dreams, he dreams of mermaids and sparrows and blue eyes and brown hair. A mosaic of want. A movie of a man he craves, longs for so bad that it makes his heart ache.

* 

He should know something is up when Nixon tells them they are going to have to room in pairs and he sends Speirs an especially cocky smirk. But he doesn't have the time to think about it because he has silver to loot, so he can send it back to his ex-wife and son. It's almost midnight when he leaves Moe Alley with his share of treasures to send home. Sergeant Toye tells him his room is the last one the left, when they meet in the corridor of the house they're billeted in. He nods in thanks, prepares for Harry or Carwood. 

He doesn't expect Charles Grant, _shirtless_ , in the middle of the room . _Their_ _room_ apparently. 

He is so tongue tied that he can't even get a greeting out. 

He has no other words for the man in front of him, but gorgeous. Strong. A literal work of art. He knows he is staring, eyes probably hungry and distant, but he is rendered speechless. Chuck stands still, face surprised and a little pink. He nervously wrings his t-shirt in his hands. 

'Uh, good evening Captain. Looks like we have the room to share.' 

He is going to kill Lewis Nixon. Slowly. Painfully. This is awful. 

He can't do anything, can't back out, can't hurt the man in front of him by refusing to sleep in the same room as him. So he just grits out a 

'Good evening, Sergeant. Looks like we have to share the bed, though' he grimaces, thinking of hurling himself out of the window.

It's not enough that his object of admiration is in front of him, shirtless, looking like he is carved out of marble. No. He has to share a bed with him too. 

He might not make it through the night without a silent breakdown. 

Grant just looks at him, gaze piercing but kind, and something shifts in his eyes. He says, without an ounce of shame, voice filled with confidence and playfulness 

"Couldn't ask for a more handsome bed companion, so I can't complain, Captain. Do you mind if I sleep shirtless, _sir_?' 

He has a lazy, challenging smile on his face. Speirs feels his jaw go slack, and it's his turn to flush a bit. He steps close to Grant, shutting the door behind him. The room is small, small for two grown men, small for the electric tension that hums between them. As he comes chest to chest with the other man, he sees Grant swallow nervously. He knows how he looks. The hunger, the lust in his eyes could be mistaken for anger. He hopes it isn't. 

And when Grant licks his lips, than trails his eyes on Ron's, he knows this man understands him better than anyone else ever will. He leans in close, touches his mouth to the shell of Grant's ear and whispers, 

'I'd prefer you _fully_ naked, _sir._ But however you prefer.'

He knows he is on thin ice. There might be a chance that he misunderstood, that it's all but wishful thinking from his part. But when Grant shudders and lets out a small sigh his fears disappear. 

He steps back, finally lets his eyes wonder down on the other's body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the whip cord of muscles, the black and white ink, the birthmarks, the moles. 

Chuck Grant is beautiful. Speirs wants to kiss him so bad his jaw aches.

He doesn't have time to think for a plan on how to do that because he is slammed against the wall. His head is safe, but the air is pushed out of his lungs. Chuck's mouth is on his in seconds and he forgets how to think. 

His mouth is soft, softer than Ron ever imagined. As a strong arm sneaks into his hair, to move his head to a better angle, he moans into the kiss. His heart is beating so fast it threatens to crack his ribs. He pushes back at Chuck's shoulders, to take a gulp of air. When he does, Chuck's pupils are blown wide, his eyes scared. Panic seeps into his voice as he takes a step back and starts to ramble.

'Sir, shit, I'm sorry, I did- I didn't mean to jump you like this, I just thought-'

Ron silences him with a kiss. There's nothing soft in it, it has every ounce of lust and admiration and want he tried so hard to suppress. Now it's Chuck who moans into the kiss, and the voice shakes Ron to his core. He takes the man's face in his hands and starts to trail kisses down his jaw. Chuck lets out a happy little noise and Ron feels like he could to this, make Chuck make these noises until he dies.

Chuck's breathing becomes ragged as Ron reaches with his mouth down to his Adam's apple. He goes liquid under Ron's hands and mouth, stammers out the words. 

_'Sir,_ shit, _Ron_ \- I - fuck, uh, please, get your shirt off before I lose my goddamned mind' he pulls Ron up by his shirt, hands fisting in the back of Ron's jacket. 

Ron unceremoniously drops his jacket to the floor, lets his shirt fall right next to it. 

Now they're standing chest to chest, shirtless, warm, gaze lingering on each other. 

He pulls Chuck in by the nape of his neck, which earns him a whine, full of want. He smirks into the next kiss, and he pushes the man in his arms close to his chest. Inked, strong arms sneak around his waist and he suddenly feels so content it stops his breath. 

He is rewarded for not paying attention, because the next thing he feels is a sting of teeth on his pulse point. The feeling gets him hard, and when Chuck pushes him down the bed, _their bed_ , he knows there's no going back for him. 

If it takes a war, for him to come across the most amazing man he's ever seen, it is worth it. He takes one of his hands and softly touches Grant between his legs. It draws out a long moan from the man and in return he pushes Ron down the bed, so he is on top of him. As the moonlight and candle lights dance across their bodies, Ron feels like _this man_ on top of him deserves the whole world.

Chuck starts to undo his belt, but he stops him. This is not how he imagined the scenario of having Chuck this close to him. He wants the man undone, under his mouth, under his hands. He can wait for his turn. 

He sees a flash of confusion, then hurt then worry flash across the others face. Grant stammers, 

' Shit, sorry, I just- I wanted to. If you don't want to-Fuck did I ruin this?' 

Ron sits up, with Grant between his legs, eyes full of adoration. He takes the man's face into his palms and kisses him. The , with a move he couldn't be happier to learn during training, flips them, so Chuck is under him. 

His eyes are blown wide, cheeks red, lips kissed cherry red. His hair is toulused and he is the most beautiful thing Ron has ever seen. He tells him that much. It earns him a shy giggle and he can't believe his luck. 

'You didn't ruin anything, love. I just can't let this go further without kissing you _everywhere._ ' 

Chuck shivers under him, and when Ron settles his arms at the side of his head, he looks at him with such pure affection it twists Ron's guts. He leans in to kiss his lover, whose arms hold him steady, safe. 

He wants to give him everything in the world. 

When he breaks the kiss, he starts to trail his hands down on the man's chest. His touch leaves goosebumps across Chuck's skin and he looks already wrecked. Ron can't wait to put his mouth on every inch of the man. He trails his mouth and tongue on the sparrows, on the ship that graces the man's stomach. He grabs him by the hips, trails his tongue on the flowers. When he gets to his belt buckle, he hesitates, looks at Grant questioningly. 

The other man shudders out a 'Please take the bloody things off, Ron, I need you to-'

That's all he needs, and he takes all of Chuck's remaining clothing with one swift move. He is hard, maybe harder than Ron. Pride fills his chest, that he is the reason this gorgeous, amazing man is withering with lust in a shitty bed in the middle of Germany. He doesn't waste more time on musing, he climbs back up to Chuck's level who gasps at the friction between his naked body and Ron's still partially dressed legs. He pushes his hips up, and Ron has to bite back a loud moan. He leans close, nose touching Grant's. He looks into the beautiful eyes, the ones that made him fall for the man in the first place. He is shaking with anticipation as he asks, 

'Can I blow you?'

Chuck lets out a chocked whine and then, with a cracked voice whispers a 'Yes, _please_.' 

Ron wastes no time and starts going down on the man. As Chuck whimpers under his mouth and hands, he thinks this is the closest thing to heaven he has ever felt. 

Strong fingers grab his hair and help him with the angle as he swallows Chuck down whole. The man lets out a string of profanities and praises and Ron feels more powerful than with any weapon in his hands. He sets a slow rhythm which knows will drive the man above him crazy. He wants to give him everything, the best of the best. Chuck chokes out his name, _Ron, Ron, Ron,_ like a prayer, like it's something holy. 

When Chuck Grant comes down his throat with a low moan that sends him over the edge too, he knows he never wants to be with anyone else. He swallows him down, lets the man shiver through his orgasm, with his hands still holding his thighs in place. When he pulls away, Chuck is looking down at him with awe and so much love, he knows it's the same for him. He pulls him up, kisses Ron is a way that will leave bruises. He licks into his mouth, his tongue meeting Ron's and they both shudder.

When he tries to reach into Ron's pants to return the gesture with what must be an amazing hand job, Ron stops him. He is spent too and too buzzed to waste minutes thinking of himself. He guides Chuck's hands to the front of his pants instead, still wet, where he came like a teenage boy. 

Chuck blushes a deep red as he realizes what happened. Ron just kisses him and lays down next to him under the covers. He kicks his nasty pants and underwear off, swearing to bother with them tomorrow. He feels like the happiest man on Earth and he doesn't want to let go. 

They talk in hushed, low whispers about everything and anything, Ron's hands drawing small lines along Cuck's tattoos. He finally admits that he is in love, has been for a while. When Chuck admits that he had the biggest crush on him since Camp Toccoa and Tab threatened to kill him if he even mentioned Ron, he smirks down at the blushing man. Leans in to give a slow kiss to his temple, to his nose, and finally to his mouth.

As Chuck lays his head on his chest, their breathing evening out, Ron knows he will not let this man out of his sight. And by the way, Chuck's strong arms wrap around him so he can nuzzle into his neck, he knows the man feels the same. With a happy sigh, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. 

*

Ronald Speirs gets his first and only tattoo when he is 26. It's a sunny day in Los Angeles, 3 months after the end of the war. It's a white, fine line on his ring finger. Chuck Grant is the one to tattoo it on him and he feels so happy, as the love of his life gives him a matching 'band', that is similar to his own. Of course, it is not the same as a real wedding, in a real church, but when he has Chuck Grant, in his arms, nothing else matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Roe's tattoo means 'Let's go!' and Nixon's is form Charles Baudelaire and the line he gets means 'to be always drunk'. But i recommend reading the whole poem, it is beautiful!


End file.
